A Song of the Century

A Song of the Century

poetry

Poem by M.H (possibly Marie Howland) A poem about a community of hope.

Marie Howland

Special Collections Research Center, Henry Madden Library, California State University, Fresno

Text

English

Typed

A Song of the Century by M.H

Who had time for idle sighness

When the morning lights turn gray

The pregnant hours are flying

And we cannot bid them to stay;

Every certain chance is lying

In the keeping of to-day.

Let the weak heart stop and listen

To the philosophic head;

There is breath in the to-morrow

But the yesterday is dead;

There are new words to be uttered

BUt the old ones all are said.

If we cannot grasp the lily

We can often gain the rose;

If we lose the mystic morning

We have still day's dewy close.

This is life - for the hereafter

Is there any one who knows?

Away from idle scorning

And away with useless tears.

Let the spirit of the morning

Rout the night’s unreal fears.

Rise and march - the ranks adorning:

Onward, upward, with the years.

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